


For Who I Am

by likeasouffle



Series: For Who I Am [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Misgendering, Other, Tailoring, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasouffle/pseuds/likeasouffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone who hasn’t quite decided on a name goes shopping for a real suit for the first time, and meets a distractingly attractive tailor. Hijinks ensue. (AKA The genderqueer!Blaine/tailor!Kurt fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s not very long, but I have been working on this story off and on since October 2012. HUGE THANK YOU to my betas, wowbright, neyronrose, and hungrymonstersdarling, and to the many people who have cheered me on all this time! I appreciate it so much! This story is very close to my heart and Blaine is basically me, so I’m really excited to finally post it!  
> Also, this story is written in first person, because the main character changes names and pronouns a couple times over the course of the story, and I think having a consistent set of I/me/my pronouns to follow will be easier for most readers.  
> Original [Tumblr post](http://likearumchocolatesouffle.tumblr.com/post/74427667588/fic-for-who-i-am-17)

The store had a rainbow sticker on the door. That was basically the whole reason I walked inside. The “custom fittings” sign and the rainbow sticker. Maybe that meant they’d be accepting of my… unique situation.

I walked in and immediately loved it: racks and racks of stylish menswear, formal and casual, classic and flamboyant. The radio overhead was quietly playing a bouncy Nick Jonas song. I found myself moving toward the accessories as if I was being pulled in by a tractor beam, no control over my own feet. Dapper hats, brightly colored bowties, suspenders… Lapel pins! With little chains hanging off them!

I was excitedly perusing the bowties, getting strangely turned on by the possibilities, when the salesman walked up to me and said, smiling: “Can I help you find anything?” His voice was higher than I would have expected, but elegant, confident, and it made me feel a lot better about the pitch of my own voice.

“Um…” I blushed, suddenly anxious all over again about what I was there for. “I’m not sure what I want exactly. I mean I _am_ , I want a suit. I want it to be obviously a men’s suit, but I want it to fit me properly, you know?” I clumsily put back the ties I’d been inappropriately feeling up. “I want it to be the right size for me, but I don’t want it to look like I have, like, enormous hips…” I gestured down at my body, frumpy in ladies’ jeans a couple sizes too big. Then I finally looked up at him and registered how stunningly gorgeous he was.

He pressed his long fingers to his pouting lips and looked me up and down thoughtfully. His hair was styled _up_ , like a model, and he was young and thin and tall and had perfect posture and possibly the tightest pants I’d ever seen. “Just to be clear, you want to be interpreted as male?” I watched his eyes as he took in my sneakers, my oversized Wicked T-shirt, my hellaciously frizzy hair pulled back in a decidedly non-masculine ponytail.

I blushed harder, if such a thing was possible, feeling very much like I could have fried an egg by the heat coming off of my face. “Um. Yes.”

He nodded decisively. “I think we can work with that.” He smiled warmly and extended his arm toward a curtained-off fitting room on the opposite wall. “Would you like to get undressed and I’ll take your measurements?”

If I had been a cartoon character I would have gulped audibly. I could just picture my eyes widening like saucers. “Um, okay. Do I… How much do I…?”

He waved a hand distractedly as he gathered up a clipboard and a tape measure. “Just take off your outer layers, if that’s okay.”

He led the way to the fitting room and held the curtain open for me. I shuffled over, nodding slowly, trying to talk myself into it. It’ll be fine. He does this all the time. No big deal. He followed me in and I mentally freaked out a little bit. Or a lot. Okay, actually a lot.

I pulled at the hem of my shirt as he searched his pocket and produced a pen. I said, “The thing is, I’m wearing, like, an Ace bandage? Around my…”

He nodded and didn’t look up from what he was writing on his clipboard. “That’s fine. Whatever you’re going to be wearing under your suit is what you should wear while I take your measurements.”

“Okay,” I breathed. I shut my eyes. “Okay.” I gave myself a mental push and pulled my shirt up and off. I looked around for somewhere to put it, and dropped it onto the bench behind me. Then I tried as quickly as possible to straighten out some of the wrinkly parts of my bandage - it always bunched up in strange ways as I moved about - but to no avail. It was just going to have to continue to look weird, revealing narrow strips of skin at my sides. And Super Hot Sales Guy would judge me, and then he’d never marry me and I’d never get a family discount at his store.

I was startled out of my despair by the sound of his voice. “Why don’t we start with your top half. We can worry about the rest later, all right?” He moved around me and I could feel his fingers stretching the cloth tape measure across my back, from shoulder to shoulder. They felt strong and certain, pressed too lightly to feel aggressive, and too firmly to tickle. My heart raced at the intimacy of it. Then the touch disappeared and I could hear him making a quick note with his pen.

I didn’t get any calmer as he measured my neck, then had me raise my arms so he could wrap the tape measure around my chest, his fingertips careful over my skin. “May I make a suggestion?” he asked, not stopping his work.

“Okay?”

“These bandages aren’t really meant for this. They don’t have any give, and you can injure your lungs or your ribs.” He measured around my waist as he spoke. “You should probably consider getting an actual binder if you’re going to be doing this often.”

“I… What do you mean?” I felt like an idiot. I’d never heard of a binder before. And his touch ghosting over my sides, just above my waistband, was very distracting. It’s probably extremely inappropriate to think sexy thoughts about one’s tailor.

“It’s just that chest binders are elastic, they allow you to breathe better, they’re easier to put on, they stay where they’re supposed to be all day…”

I kind of wanted to disappear into the floor. I clearly hadn’t done enough Googling. “I’ll look into that. Thank you for the suggestion, that’s very nice of you.”

He smiled. “Not a problem. Can I get you to take off your pants now?”

I fumbled with my button and zipper as I hurried to undress, feeling my heart racing, hopefully looking more or less like a normal person and not like a sweaty, nervous weirdo. I belatedly remembered that I was still wearing my shoes and sat down to take them off with my jeans hanging open. I pointedly did not look up to see the look on the tailor’s face. The only sound, other than the shuffling of my movements, was Nick Jonas singing, “I want someone to love me. Is that so bad?” When I finally got my jeans off, I stood up in just my lumpy Ace bandage, my black ankle socks, and a pair of pale blue panties. I kept my eyes down, partly because eye contact would be an excellent way to make the whole thing even more awkward, and partly because I was trying to sneakily inspect my underwear for cleanliness and any signs of wayward pubic hairs. Oh god, why did he have to be hot?

He knelt gracefully in front of me, and wow, wasn’t that a sight to see? He wrapped the tape measure around the widest part of my hips, which was simultaneously humiliating and tremendously exciting. Blood was rushing and thrumming and pulsing in my crotch with an intensity I’d only ever experienced before during sex. I felt strangely like he should be able to tell. But his long fingers efficiently pulled the tape measure taut, then released it to write the number down, like everything was ordinary and fine.

“I’m going to reach between your legs to measure your inseam, all right?”

“Um…”

“I promise I’m not trying to feel you up.” He smiled up at me with a quick wink, then did exactly what he’d said he would do, which was… Well. It felt very intimate. It probably wasn’t intentional, but I felt the light brush of the back of his hand against the cloth of my panties. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and curled my toes in my socks. His touch sent shivers all the way down my legs, and then it was suddenly over.

“Okay, now the fun part.” His eyes crinkled as he stood, as if he was genuinely excited. “Get dressed and let’s pick out a style!”

My entire body slumped in relief, and I couldn’t help smiling back at him even as I continued to blush. I’d been anxiously awaiting the chance to pick out a real suit for a long time. I just hadn’t built up the nerve before.

I quickly pulled on my jeans and T-shirt and shoved my feet into my sneakers, then followed him out into the formalwear section. “Any preferences on color? Style?”

“I’m actually…” I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure what would work best, so if you have any suggestions…”

“Excellent.” He clapped his hands together, grinning. He flipped through racks of pants and shirts, checking for sizes and handing me a small stack of clothes to try on. I held it all over my arm and watched him as he worked, intently focused on the clothes, not even glancing back as he handed me his selections. “Waistcoat?” He turned to look at me, tilting his head. “Let’s try it.”

He picked a few out, and some jackets, then ushered me back into the fitting room. I undressed again and tried everything on, rejecting things that didn’t fit right or that I just didn’t like. A boring jacket with nothing exceptional about it, a pair of pants that seemed designed to make my hips even _more_ womanish. But pretty soon I found myself in a whole outfit of items I really liked, and he clapped excitedly once I came out fully dressed. I felt like a kid in grownup clothes, with my pant legs hanging down over my feet. He bent down to roll them up and pin them. I tucked in my shirt and pulled at my lapels as I watched him kneeling and fussing, tickling my ankles and pulling my pant legs straight.

He stood up and looked me over, then had me change my jacket. “This one has shorter arms.” Once the new jacket was on (and he was right, the shorter arms were better) he raised an eyebrow appraisingly. “ _Well_. Don’t you look _handsome_.”

I almost choked in surprise. “I, um. I, I, thank you. That’s -“

He laughed. “Wanna see yourself?” I nodded, and he guided me to the mirror. “Right this way, Sir.”

I could feel myself blushing. I’d never been called “sir” before. It made me want to laugh out loud, or skip, or do a little dance or something. I ducked my head, trying to hide my grin, and stepped over to the wall with the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

I still looked like a girl. A particularly unappealing girl, with no make up, dark eyebrows, and frizzy hair. But from the neck down, I thought: wow, I would totally do me. I looked stylish and classy in dark grey slacks, a matching jacket, and a lighter grey vest with five buttons and some decorative black stitching. Each piece would be able to go with anything, and I started planning a whole selection of bright, colorful ties and socks to wear.

The pants were straight-legged, kind of loose around my knees, but they definitely minimized the curviness of my hips. The jacket added width to my shoulders and waist, hiding my real shape and making me look about a hundred times more masculine. And something about the V of the vest was so eye-catching I almost couldn’t believe it was _my_ body that was wearing it.

"I need to own this suit. I kind of never want to take it off."

He grinned so hard his nose crinkled. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll _have_ to take it off so I can hem the length and adjust the drape. But I promise you can have it back in like three days.”

After we discussed costs (a little pricey, but so worth it), and I had put my own clothes back on and brought the suit up to the counter, he hung it up neatly and got out a pad of forms.

"Can I get your name?"

I cringed. “Uh. Charity.”

He smiled sympathetically. “I don’t need your legal name. Just whatever name you go by.”

I tilted my head. “…I don’t have another name.”

He pressed his lips together. He seemed to contemplate me for a moment, then he nodded. “Okay. Charity. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He wrote my name down, then turned the pad toward me. “Could you fill out your phone number and credit card info here?”

I started writing as he slid a business card across the counter.

“I’m Kurt. Feel free to give me a call if you have any questions or concerns. Or, you know, fashion crises.”

I looked up in time to see his long, graceful fingers pull away from the card. _Kurt Hummel, Custom Alterations _.__ I probably wouldn’t actually call, but I sure would think about it a lot.

"Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind."

Boy, would I ever.


	2. Chapter 2

I arrived back at the store feeling anxious, and feeling ridiculous for feeling so anxious. I would get to take my suit home finally, and that on its own was justifiably heart-racy. But more than that, I would see the hot tailor again, and he would smile his gorgeous smile at me and probably compliment me too. I knew it didn’t mean anything, he was probably like that with all his customers, but it was still basically the highlight of my week that it had happened at all.

I paced in front of the store for a few minutes in my new shoes (shiny black wingtips, very masculine and classy), grateful that the sun was warm and the sidewalks were dry. Traffic zoomed by and busy pedestrians bustled past me, oblivious. I told myself to just get it over with. Just open the door and go in, and even if nothing happens, even if he doesn’t smile or say anything nice, it’ll be okay. That wasn’t why I was there. I was there for the suit and that was all.

I stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath, went inside, and - He wasn’t there. The adrenaline my heart had been pumping out seemed to sit in my stomach like a rock, unsure what to do with itself. The radio was playing _Something_ by the Beatles, slow and dragging, and I felt strangely off kilter, like the drum beat didn’t belong at the pace at which it was going. I walked up to the counter and the young lady behind it waved and smiled. “Hi! I’m Sugar. Can I help you find anything?” She popped her bubblegum as I dug in my pocket for my order ticket. “Are you shopping for your boyfriend?”

“Um.” I found it and held it out to her. “No. I have an order to pick up. For, um, Charity Anderson?”

“Pretty name! Just one sec.” She disappeared into a back room, and I stood there, breathing. My skin prickled, for no reason I could think of, at the word “pretty.” It’s a _compliment_ , just _take_ it as one. I clenched and unclenched my jaw, and examined the grain of the countertop.

I looked up at the blur of motion emerging from the back room, the pieces of my suit being noisily unzipped from a garment bag and hung from the clothes rack next to the counter. “Hello again!” I jolted to awareness at the sound of his voice. It was Kurt Hummel, smiling and ringing up my total on the cash register.

“Hi! I thought you weren’t here.”

“Oh, I’m _always_ here. My scintillating social life keeps me horrendously busy for about, mmm, two hours a week. Is it the same credit card?”

“What? Oh, yeah. The one I wrote down. Here.” I handed it over so he could swipe it as I tried not to grin so manically wide.

After I signed for the payment and he returned my card, he asked me if I wanted to try on the suit to make sure all the alterations were right. “I love your shoes, by the way. I have a pair like that myself.”

“Really?” I blushed on my way to the fitting room. “Thank you! They’re new.” Once the curtain was closed between us I put my hands over my face and did a little celebratory shoulder shimmy. He complimented me! It was all I could do not to squeal out loud.

As I was undressing, he startled me by talking through the curtain. “Could I ask you a personal question?”

I was shirtless and all… naked shouldered, and my heart just about burst through my chest with nervous tension. “Um, sure.”

“You said last time you didn’t have any name other than Charity, and I don’t mean to intrude or anything, but if you’re trying to be seen as male, I wondered if you had given any thought to trying out other names?”

I felt weird removing my shoes and pants as I spoke, feeling like he could walk in at any moment. “Well… not really? I mean it’s a nice idea, but how do you just… _pick a name_? I mean, my mom picked my name. Who just _names themselves_? It seems a little presumptuous.”

I heard him laugh, a bright, happy chuckle, as I pulled my newly hemmed pants on. “Well it could be based on your current name. It could be like a nickname.”

“That… actually makes sense. Like what kind of nickname?”

“What about Charlie?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really feel like a Charlie.”

“Hm. Chaz?”

“That… really reminds me a lot of Chaz Bono.”

“What’s wrong with Chaz Bono?”

“Nothing, I just think it would be really weird if I tell my dad about this stuff and he’s only heard about two people in my… position, and they’re both called Chaz. It would be like I was copycatting or something.”

He snickered. “I see your point. Charles?”

“Hmmm…” I put on my new shirt and started buttoning it up. “That’s… a bit more me, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a definite maybe. But like, it’s a little _too_ male, you know? I mean it would be nice if it was a name that could be mistaken for male or female.”

“Interesting. What about… Chandler? Please don’t call yourself Chandler.”

I laughed. “Why not?”

“My ex-boyfriend’s name is Chandler. It would be weird.”

“Why would that be weird? It’s not like you’re dating me.” I grinned and did up the buttons on my cuffs. I waited for him to come back with a joke or some sarcastic remark, but there was nothing but silence for a moment.

“I don’t know. Never mind. I’m not sure what I meant by that. How is the suit looking?”

“Great!” I picked up my vest and shoes and stepped out of the fitting room to finish dressing in front of the big floor-to-ceiling mirror. I did a twirl as he clapped.

“You look like a million bucks!”

I grinned at him through the mirror, and amazingly, I actually believed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Once again I paused outside the store before entering, but this time it was to check my hair as well as I could in my reflection in the glass. It was a new haircut, and I still wasn’t completely sure about it, but it was a hell of a lot better than my old unflattering ponytail, that was for sure.

It was much shorter than before, but not _short_ short. I had asked the hairdresser to make me androgynous, and my hair ended up long enough to be curly and wild all the way around my head, like a fuzzy black halo. I pushed it to the side, off my forehead, nodded reassuringly at myself, and went inside the store.

Kurt was there behind the counter, looking at his phone, humming along with the Lady Gaga song that was playing on the radio. As soon as he saw me he exclaimed: “Wow, I love your hair!”

“Really?” I admit it, I preened a little. “I wasn’t sure -“

“No, it’s great, it really frames your face.” He put down his phone and looked me over. “It’s so carefree and fun.”

“Thank you.” I ducked my head and bit my lip.

“Are you doing some celebratory shopping? A stylish tie for your new suit, perhaps?”

“Um, I actually came just to get your opinion on -“ I gestured at my head, “on this. And on… something else as well.”

“Oh? I’m intrigued.” He leaned forward over the counter expectantly.

“Two things, actually. I joined a mixed choir. My first choir since high school.”

“Oh, that’s great! I was in show choir in high school too. I loved it.”

“Yeah. I was nervous. I feel weird about… voice stuff. But they gave me lots of compliments, and one girl in the group has an ‘I heart girls’ button on her jacket, so I think they’ll be open-minded.”

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I scuffed my foot on the floor. “And the other thing is… I called my mom, and we talked about, uh. Names.”

“Wow. That’s a big deal. What did she say?”

“Well, I didn’t tell her I’m changing my name. I’m not ready to deal with all that yet. But I asked her what I would have been named if I’d been born a boy.”

“And?”

“Apparently the boy name she had picked out was Blaine.”

“Blaine.” He tilted his head. “How do you feel about it?”

“It’s… interesting. I might like it?”

“Better than Charity?”

“Well, yes. By default. I mean I’ve never liked my name before. I never identified with it.”

“How so?”

“I just - Everyone’s favorite word is supposed to be their own first name, right? But I don’t care about mine. It’s just how you know people are talking about me and not someone else. Like, you know in movies or books when someone calls out the other person’s name during sex?”

He smirked. “Yeah?”

“Or like, if some domineering person is all: ‘Say my name, bitch!’”

He laughed out loud. “That doesn’t do it for you?”

“Not at all. Actually it’s kind of a turn off, being called Charity. It’s like, ‘Are you talking about _me_?’”

His smile widened. “Well, Blaine, I think we’re going to have to experiment with this and see how you feel.”

I blushed and grinned at the floor.

“Mr. Blaine Anderson. It has a nice ring to it.” Just then, the phone rang. Kurt looked at it and made a face. “I’m sorry, I have to -“

“No, yeah, of course. I’ll just -“ I shoved my hands into my pockets and started heading backward toward the accessories as he answered.

“Hey Sugar, what’s up? …Yeah, your paycheck is here waiting for you.”

I pondered the pros and cons of bowties versus regular ties while I waited. I would have bet money that Kurt would have a useful opinion on that.

“Mm hm! Your first money you earned yourself! What are you going to do with it?” Kurt paused, then laughed the most heart-burstingly happy laugh I’d ever heard. “Over my dead body!” I peeked into the mirror by the wall of hats so I could surreptitiously watch him smile. “What do you mean? I’m _always_ in a good mood.”

I tried on a cute straw hat with a blue band as an excuse to keep peeking at Kurt in the mirror, just as another customer walked in the door: a slightly older man with a suit and a briefcase, who stopped to look at the sweaters near the entrance.

“Actually…” Kurt turned to face away from me and dropped his voice to a whisper, and I stood perfectly still and strained my ears to hear. “He’s here right now. Yes, the guy I told you about.”

I couldn’t help wondering what Kurt’s interest was in this man, and what he had said to his coworker about him. He was blushing, and his tone was unusually awkward.

“…Shhh! Oh my god. Just - Okay, I’m hanging up now. Goodbye. Okay. Bye.”

My mind immediately jumped to the idea of Kurt having a crush on him. He wasn’t unattractive, and he appeared to be kind of successful.

I put back the cute hat and stepped toward the counter, and the man with the briefcase did the same, only a few steps behind me. Kurt turned toward him, but the man waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, help her first. I’m not in a rush.”

My ears burned. I looked sort of vaguely in Kurt’s direction without making eye contact, and clasped my hands together in front of me.

Kurt smiled politely and said: “Actually he’s a friend, he’s just here visiting. What can I help you with?”

I stood in stunned silence and tried not to make my eyes too obviously wide. I lost track of their transaction as I tried to figure out whether to be embarrassed, pleased, relieved… The man didn’t really react to Kurt calling me “he.” It was like it was normal. How could it be normal for me to be a different gender than he thought I was?

Once the man paid for whatever he’d had tailored and left, Kurt turned his attention back to me. “Sorry about that, Blaine.”

I felt myself blushing at the name. It seemed pretty possible I might never get used to it. “…About what?”

“That man, calling you ‘she.’ Are you okay?”

I shrugged.

“Did I do the right thing? I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

“No, it was… I really appreciated it. I just - I think I’d actually prefer gender neutral pronouns?”

“Oh! I’m sorry! So you want to be called…”

“‘They.’ If that’s okay.”

“‘They’?” He raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a little impersonal? I’d feel like I was being rude.”

I sucked my lips into my mouth for a second. “‘It’ would be impersonal and rude. ‘They’ is just… I don’t know, it’s the same as ‘he’ or ‘she,’ but without a gender. People use it all the time.”

“Do they though?”

“Yeah, like: ‘I’m going to the doctor, and they’re going to update my prescription.’”

“Hm.”

“Or ‘Someone stole my bike, and whoever they are, they’re clearly a horrible person.’”

“But like I said, that’s impersonal. People say that when they don’t know who specifically they’re talking about.”

“No, they do it when they don’t know the gender of the person they’re talking about. ‘Look at that person down the street. Do you think they’re a guy or a girl?’ Or like: ‘Wow, the driver of that car is weaving. Do you think they’re drunk?’”

He nodded, frowning. “So you would have preferred it if I’d said to that customer: ‘Blaine here is a friend. They’re just here to visit.’”

“I think so?”

“I’ve never met anyone before who used ‘they,’ is it just like the plural? They are, their, themselves…?”

“Uh. Themself, I think, for the singular. But other than that it’s the same… ‘They is’ sounds weird.”

“So, is being called ‘he’ just as bad as being called ‘she’?”

“Not bad, exactly. More… unfamiliar. If someone was going to woo me by serenading me with some romantic song, and everything in the song said ‘he,’ I think I’d be so distracted I’d forget to be properly flattered.”

He laughed. “If someone wanted to serenade _me_ with a song, I wouldn’t care _what_ the pronouns were.”

“Seriously?”

“I have always wanted to be serenaded. I’m not even joking. They could sing _Toot It and Boot It_ and I’d be so flattered I’d immediately start drawing little hearts around their name in my diary.”

I laughed so suddenly it kind of hurt my throat.

“People should really burst into song in real life more often, honestly.”

I grinned. “Well, it does happen sometimes, you know. My ex-boyfriend serenaded me once.”

He gasped.

“On Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re kidding me. I’m so jealous! I kind of want to do terrible things to you now.”

“Yeah. Nick. We dated in high school. He went to an all boys school, I went to the corresponding all girls school, we had dances together and stuff. Anyway he sang lead in his choir sometimes. He was -” I swayed my shoulders from side to side. “Yeah. He was really great.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah. Really kind and open-minded. Funny.”

“Hot?”

“Umm… Yes? Not the hottest guy I knew but - Actually he had this really hot friend, oh my god. Tall, handsome, rich, confident…”

Kurt raised his eyebrow knowingly. “Tell me more.”

I laughed. “There’s nothing to tell. There’s no way he would have been interested in me. He’s only into men.”

He tilted his head. “Aren’t you a man?”

“No? I don’t know. I don’t look like one.”

“Well, you don’t look like a girl. Not to me anyway.”

I clasped my hands together awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Kurt seemed to study me for a few moments. “Can I ask why you waited until now to change your hair and clothing?”

“Well, I told my dad once that I wanted to be a boy. I think I was about thirteen. He asked me _why_. He wanted a sound explanation, something well thought out and practical. I tried to come up with things on the spot - guys build muscle more easily, things I don’t even care about - and he shot down all my arguments with logic: not all men are strong, and plenty of women _are_. I don’t know. He was kind of laughing at me. It was so frustrating.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“In the end he told me not to do anything drastic, to just wait until I’m done puberty and see how I feel.”

“Isn’t that the _opposite_ of what you’re supposed to do with trans kids?”

“Well, it seemed to work out okay. I started to actually enjoy dresses for the first time in my life. I got into nail polish. I kind of got used to being female. Really, for a long time, the only place I couldn’t deal with it was in the bedroom.” I realized too late what I had said and blushed fiercely.

“How did your ex-boyfriend feel about that?”

“Oh, he was fine. We did lots of genderplay. He called me a good boy and - and… stuff.” This was doing nothing to help with the blushing situation at all.

Kurt laughed and blushed a little himself. “Stuff? Should I ask?”

“Yeah, you know, he’d tell me nice things about my, um, boyparts. Things like that.” _Oh my god shut up._

Kurt covered his mouth with his hand and turned even redder. “He sounds great!”

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this.” I ducked my head, smiling and mentally eyerolling at myself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

I laughed. “No, it’s… kind of fun.”

“Well in that case I’m not sorry.” He bit his lip, still smiling, as I looked up to meet his eyes.

“Good.”


	4. Chapter 4

There were other clothing stores I could have gone to as I started to build my new wardrobe, but the truth is, I wanted to spend more time with Kurt. And it’s not like his store lacked selection. I tornadoed through the place picking out items as Kurt followed behind with a shopping basket. He offered commentary on everything I looked at. Sweater vests, polo shirts, colorful chinos, boat shoes, bowties, shawl-necked sweaters… even a fun fedora.

"This is so exciting! Are you sure you’re okay with spending this much at once?"

I handwaved his concerns away. “It’s worth it. It would be nice to have more savings, or pay down my student loans faster I guess, but I think I’d rather spend it recreating myself.”

Kurt smiled. “I have to say, if I could recreate myself into someone as charming as you, I’d make the same decision. _Especially_ if I could do it all by shopping.”

I blinked at him for a moment and swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to the compliment, until I reminded myself that it was just a sales tactic and nothing to get worked up about. I held up two ties against the jacket of my grey suit. “Green and gold? Or blue and silver?”

Kurt took a moment to really look at me. He lowered his head and said with a playful smile: “Well, they both look good, Blaine, but if you want to look _incredible_ , definitely go with the green and gold. It brings out the color of your eyes.”

I blushed and put the blue tie back on the rack. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I took the basket from him and went to the curtained-off fitting room as Kurt’s coworker, Sugar, came out from the back room. As I took off my blazer and picked a boldly striped sweater to try on, I could just barely hear the two of them talking under the sound of _Take Me or Leave Me_ playing on the radio. “Nice salesmanship, Romeo. You should teach me that.”

Kurt’s voice was light and airy. “I don’t know what you mean.”

"Of course you do. I almost thought you switched teams for a second there.” Sugar sounded giggly and teasing. “What were you doing hitting on that girl?"

"Shhh!" Kurt whispered. I stood perfectly still and strained to hear. "That’s not a girl, that’s _Blaine_.”

I looked at myself in the mirror, put my hand over my mouth, and managed to keep a sudden sob inside. I rolled my eyes at myself for getting so worked up even as my chest jerked with the force of an erratic breath. I missed the rest of their conversation, forcing myself to breathe slowly and deeply, until I felt in control and calm again. I wiped my eyes and stepped out of the fitting room.

Kurt smiled warmly and walked over to me, putting one hand on my shoulder and gesturing to Sugar with the other. “I can’t remember, have you met Sugar? Sugar, this is Blaine.”

She waggled her fingers at me in greeting. “We met already. I thought you said your name was, um…”

"I actually changed it," I said. "Recently."

"Well that’s good, because I can’t remember what it was before!"

Kurt straightened the collar of my sweater. His closeness made me shiver. “This looks good on you. Dapper.”

"Yeah, it’s an amazing color!" Sugar chimed in.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you should get it, girl!"

Kurt rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and closed them, clenching his jaw.

"I meant to say boy! Sorry!" Sugar shook her head, laughing at herself.

I could feel my face burning, and pressure building behind my eyes. I pulled the sweater off by the hem and went back to the fitting room to grab my blazer. “Is there any way you could set this stuff aside for me to try on later? I think I’m just going to go -”

Kurt frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t want to take anything home right now?”

“I can’t, I’ll just, I’ll be back soon, I’m sorry -”

“No, that’s fine! Don’t worry about it. It’ll all be here when you get back, Blaine.”

I heard Kurt whisper-snap at Sugar - “I can’t believe you said that!” - before the door even finished closing behind me.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a Broadway song playing in the store when I went back to try on all the clothes I had picked out the previous time. “Is this from…” I pointed vaguely upward, “Victor/Victoria?”

“Yes!” Kurt clutched my arm and grinned. “Isn’t it fabulous?”

“I love it, the music in this place is so eclectic!”

“You wouldn’t expect a playlist _I_ designed to be _boring_ , would you?”

I returned his playful smile as he released my arm and went back behind the counter to retrieve the bags of clothes I’d left behind.

“So are you ready to try things on? I hope Sugar didn’t permanently scar you or anything. She can be a little unnerving.”

“I figure it’s partly my fault. How can I expect everyone to automatically understand all this gender stuff? Most people aren’t taught this kind of thing. It’s probably unfair of me to have such high expectations.”

He frowned. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay to have legitimately hurt feelings because of people who don’t understand what they’re talking about.”

“I know.” I shrugged. “But I should probably make more of an effort to explain things before I write someone off.”

“Well you might get your chance. Sugar’s on her break but she’ll be back right away.”

And she was, too. I brought it up after my new clothes were paid for and bagged up.

"Is it okay if I talk to you about, you know -" I moved my arm in a vague, all-encompassing gesture - "trans stuff?" They both gave their approval, and I talked about how I don’t feel female, and how it sucks to _look_ female. “Nobody gets it. They just look at you and automatically assume one way or the other, and start using all these words for you without your permission.” I turned to Sugar. “Imagine if everywhere you went, everyone called you ‘Sir’ all the time.”

"Aaawkward."

"Yeah. And my voice doesn’t help either. I’m an alto in choir. And I feel like I have massive hips…"

Sugar interrupted me. “Wait a second, wait a second. Okay, so you’re not super manly, but you’re not a lost cause. I mean, just look at Kurt!”

Kurt made a face. “Thanks a lot.”

"No, I mean it! He’s prettier than _me_ , he talks like Ellen, and he wears more sequins than a pride parade, but people still know he’s a guy. I’m pretty sure being a man is mostly attitude, like being a rock star, or being a surgeon.”

Kurt shook his head, amused.

"Really!” She said to Kurt: “Look at the way he walks." She pointed at my pelvic area.

“They,” Kurt said. “The way _they_ walk.”

"They. That’s what I meant to say.” She said to me: “Don’t wiggle your butt, that’s super girly. Instead, try walking straight and keeping your knees a little apart." She demonstrated with an exaggerated cowboy walk across the floor. "Try it!"

I did my best to copy her. “I don’t think this is very manly…”

"It is! Keeping your knees apart is very important, because you have to have room for your massive balls." I cracked up laughing, and Kurt did too as he joined in with his own cowboy walk. "Also, keep your elbows out, because your biceps are too huge to put your arms down."

"I feel like I’m doing the Chicken Dance…"

"Like, do it normally though. You just have to picture this stuff in your head."

Kurt caught my gaze and rolled his eyes, still laughing.

I said: “Okay, see? This is what I mean.” I stopped and hopped up onto the counter to sit down. “I don’t want to work this hard at things like _walking_. I don’t want to worry about how my voice sounds. I don’t want to stop being a hand-talker, or obsess over every little detail of my personality and my mannerisms. I just want to be myself.”

"But I thought it was stressing you out."

"Yeah but - Okay, here is a list of things that stress me out: My chest, my birth name, and being referred to by female words. Nowhere on that list is anything about the way I walk, or the way I talk. My problem isn’t with me, it’s with the way people see me. And… I don’t really know that I want to change for other people."

Sugar frowned. “Well, I think you have to make a choice, because as long as you look the way you look, people are probably going to keep calling you a girl.”

Just then the door opened and someone came in. Kurt asked Sugar: “Could you…?” and she nodded and went to help the customer. She pointed at me on her way: “You know I’m right.”

Once she was out of earshot I sighed. “Why is everything so complicated?”

Kurt came close and leaned one hip against the counter. “Life would be boring otherwise.”

I looked at him and considered the things Sugar had said about him. She was right; ‘pretty’ is subjective, but he was definitely lovely and fair - his smooth skin, his kind eyes, his full lips - and he did have a high voice. But still, there was no question that he was male. And he was so breathtakingly attractive.

He smirked. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

"Shoot!" I covered my face with my hands. "I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to stare. It’s not - I just -"

He laughed and took one of my wrists in his hand. “It’s okay.” He tugged gently. “Believe me. I’m completely okay with you staring at me.”

I allowed my hands to lower to my lap, and his face was suddenly _there_ , so close to mine. My face was burning, and my heart pounded in my chest. I looked down at his lips and inched closer, inhaling hard. I felt his grip tighten around my wrist.

I broke away from him and hopped down onto the floor. “I’m sorry, I should go.” _God,_ what was I _thinking_? Why would I ever think someone like him would want someone like me?

"But -?" He reached out a hand toward me, all politeness, but I dodged him.

I gathered up my bags and headed toward the door. “I’m so sorry for wasting so much of your time today. I’ll come back when I have more shopping to do, okay?” I was out the door without even giving him a chance to say goodbye.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a full week before I made myself dial the number on Kurt’s business card. “Is this Kurt? This is um, Blaine, you know -“

"Blaine!" We both started talking at once. He said: "Oh good! I wanted to apologize -" just as I was saying "I’m so sorry about -"

He laughed. “You go ahead.”

"I’m really sorry for leaving in such a hurry last time I was there," I said. "I don’t want things to be awkward -"

”No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

I remembered the way it had felt to be so close to him, the butterflies in my stomach, the almost kiss, the panic when I realized what I’d nearly done. “You didn’t.”

I heard him exhale. “Come visit again soon, okay?”

It took me a moment to respond. “Okay.”

—

"You changed your hair again!"

"Yeah, I -" I reached up to touch it automatically. It was even shorter than before, especially on the sides, much more of a traditional male look, squared off by my ears in an imitation of sideburns. "Is it not as good?"

Kurt hurried to reassure me. “No, I like it! I think I like it even better now. You look like a movie star.”

God, he was so good at making me blush. “You’re just saying that.”

"I’m not! You look very handsome, Blaine." He smiled. "I mean it."

I bit my lip. “Well that’s good because -” I laughed nervously. “I actually wanted to ask your advice on, um, a new outfit. A different one. Hopefully handsome, but not as, you know, traditional.”

He raised his eyebrows and sucked his lips into his mouth, looking me over. “Tell me what you have in mind.”

"I really like the shape of my suit, but I think I want something a little more… playful? Something fun. But the same kind of thing bodyshape-wise."

"Well you’re in the right place, because I just happen to have some handsome suits in a wide variety of fun colors. Very stylish." He grinned playfully.

"It must be my lucky day." I fidgeted with my shirtsleeves. "Do you think I need to be measured again? I have - I mean, it’s just my - uh, underthings that are different but -"

"I think it definitely couldn’t hurt. Let’s do it, just to be sure."

My memory of the process of taking my clothes off is actually kind of a blur. It was similar to the first time, with Kurt being professional and me internally freaking out, but it all rushed by me in no time at all. Until the moment when he wrapped the tape measure around my torso.

His touch was firm but gentle on my chest, and my entire focus narrowed to that sensation, like the rest of the world had just disappeared. I was wearing a binder, which looked like a white tank top, and my chest was smooth and solid, like real pecs. I felt the sensation of his hands moving on my body and I felt… _good_.

"Are you okay?"

I realized I had closed my eyes, and I opened them to see his concerned expression. “This is actually - this is probably a weird thing to say but… this is -” I swallowed hard - “the first time I’ve actually enjoyed someone touching my chest.”

He didn’t make eye contact with me, and he didn’t stop his work, but his eyebrows twitched, like he was… surprised? Relieved? “The last time we did this…” He made a note on his clipboard. “It made you uncomfortable?”

I shrugged. “Everything about my body made me uncomfortable back then.”

He knelt on the floor in front of me. “And now?” I saw his gaze flick to the bulge in my briefs, and then quickly away, to the side. His cheeks turned a little pink. The packer I was wearing looked remarkably real, and normally the size of it seemed weirdly _big_ , like I was constantly half-hard everywhere I went, but at that moment it seemed - my heart picked up speed at the thought - it seemed appropriate.

"I feel… pretty okay with it right now." I couldn’t stop my lips from turning up in a smile.

He looked up into my eyes and returned my smile. “I’m glad.” He brought his hands to my inner thigh to measure my inseam, the same as before, but this time he started slightly lower to leave room for my bulge. And this time, when the back of his hand brushed against the cloth of my underwear, the embarrassment I felt seemed gentler, like it was something I was supposed to be feeling. It was about being seen in my underwear, and not about wanting to crawl out of my skin. My blood rushed with lust and not with dread. It was nice.

After the measurements were done and I was dressed in my own clothes again, we came out of the fitting room talking about color options, and found a customer standing there waiting. The man said, gesturing to me: “Is he done with the fitting room?”

I ducked my head to hide my smile as Kurt answered. “Yes, go ahead!” Once we were out of earshot he leaned in close and said: “Should I have corrected him? Let him know it’s ‘they,’ not ‘he’?”

I couldn’t stop smiling. “Actually… I think maybe I’m okay with it. Being called ‘he.’” I bumped my shoulder against his. “I think I like it.”

He bumped me back. “Should I keep calling you ‘they’ for now?”

“I think so. I think I’m fine with either ‘they’ or ‘he.’ But I guess I’ll -”

“Keep me updated.”

“Yeah.” I twisted my mouth in a blushy smile and tried to resist doing a giddy little dance. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He stepped closer to the back room and called out: “Sugar!”

“Yeah!” She leapt into view a moment later with her pigtails bouncing. “You want me to ring up your boyfriend?”

“ _Sugar_ ,” Kurt hissed. “They’re not my -”

“Have you kissed yet?” She grinned across the counter at him. I stood next to him and watched him blush.

“There’s another customer. Could you just -”

“Oh my god, you haven’t, have you? After you went on and on about how much you wanted to?” Sugar beamed with joy and winked at me as Kurt turned bright red and slowly shook his head. “What are you waiting for?!”

“Just. Wait here and help your customer when he comes out of the fitting room. Please. Thank you.” He turned and walked across the store to a wall of suits in non-traditional colors and styles, and I followed him, grinning. He turned vaguely toward me but totally failed to meet my eyes. “Ignore her. She’s just. She likes to torture me.”

I put my hand over my mouth but a giggle burst out anyway. “Is it true though?”

“Um.” He turned toward the clothes rack. “So. Bright colors, you were saying?”

I took pity on him. “Yeah. Something summery.”

He flipped through the jackets. “Summery. Summery…”

“Also, I was wondering if you can tell me the pros and cons of bowties versus regular ties.”

He paused and looked at me, shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. “Oh, I can _definitely_ do that. How much time do you have?”

“For you?” I swung my shoulders side to side. “I have all day.”


	7. Chapter 7

Fifteen assorted twenty-somethings in vaguely similar shades of blue shirts filed into Kurt’s store ahead of me, more people than I’d ever seen there at one time, and it was actually slightly crowded. And awkward, since the plan was for Kurt to be there, and it was Sugar sitting behind the counter. But as soon as she saw me, she looked over her shoulder toward the back room and yelled: “Kurt! Get your butt out here!”

I hung back as the tenors started up a bass line with a beat, as Kurt emerged and looked around, stunned. Then the altos came in with a light _ooh_ -ing and a _chick-a chick-a_ like the strum of a guitar. I stepped forward, unmistakable in my bright yellow suit, and caught Kurt’s eye just as I started to sing. “Losing my breath. Losing my right to be wrong. I’m frightened to death. I’m frightened that I won’t be strong.”

His mouth dropped open as he watched me dance my way through the store. I twirled between the rows of my choir friends, grinning and putting all the emotion I could into the song. “I want someone to love me for who I am. I want someone to need me. Is that so bad?” Kurt was definitely smiling by the second chorus.

The song segued into some light hearted _pum pum pum pum_ s and I sang: “I don’t know but I think I maybe fallin’ for you, dropping so quickly. Maybe I should keep this to myself, wait until I know you better.” I shrugged theatrically before taking hold of a wheeled clothes rack and spinning it across the floor in a dreamy dance.

Now this was something I could _do_ , something I was sure of. My friends were perfectly in sync, their dance moves simple but joyful, and it was easy to project the melody over them and show off a little with my movements. I took a trilby hat from the shelf and flipped it onto my head, winking at Kurt and making him laugh, before placing the hat on a mannequin and singing: “I don’t know what to do, I think I’m falling for you.” I tipped my head back and stilled my body on the long ooooh of “you,” then danced back into motion as the verses continued.

Kurt was looking absolutely _giddy_ , bouncing along with the song, his eyes crinkling with the brightness of his smile. I willed myself to get closer to him, and circled around him, singing directly to him. I dropped onto my knees for the outro. “I can’t stop thinking about it, I want you all around me, and now I just can’t hide it. I think I’m fallin’ for you.”

As the choir ended the song, I reached out my hand, and Kurt took it. I said: “So, I was wondering.” I grinned. “Will you go out with me?”

Kurt breathed: “Oh my god yes.” Sugar clapped and cheered, and the whole choir joined in. It was _chaos_. I stood up and Kurt wrapped me in a sudden embrace. As he spun me around I could see some fists pumping into the air. There were at least a few high voices squealing delightedly. And that’s how I felt inside.

“You know, I’ve been hoping you liked me too,” Kurt said, his face close to mine. “I was starting to think I made it all up in my head. And I can’t believe you gave me my serenade!” He laughed and stepped back to look at me, with his hands still on my shoulders. “Also: _damn_ I’m good at my job.” His eyes roamed down my body and he drew one hand down my chest to straighten my lapel. “Just _look_ at you in this _suit!_ ”

My face hurt from smiling so much. I ducked my head, then looked at his mouth. I bounced on my toes a few times, took a breath, and leaned in close. He met me halfway in a breathless, joyful kiss. I could feel the press of his lips and the thump of my heart in my chest, and I could swear I felt the vibration of a very brief, very soft moan from Kurt’s throat. I gasped and opened my eyes as we parted.

I became aware that everyone was still cheering, and I realized it had gotten louder. I laughed. “So… Should I come back when you close up?”

“Screw that, let’s get out of here. Sugar, you’re in charge!” He took my hand and pulled me through the choir to the exit.

I heard Sugar shout her approval. I was vaguely aware of some goodbyes from my friends. I saw the rainbow sticker on the door, the one that had given me the courage to walk into the store that very first day. But mostly, I just felt Kurt’s hand in mine, squeezing tight.

“So tell me, handsome.” He turned to face me as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Where to next?”


End file.
